VERITRIO
by Evilism
Summary: Draco held her gaze. His lips were tinged with blue, and he clutched his chest but he answered her nevertheless. “Because everyone knows how you feel about him,” he answered finally. “And he’s the only one moronic enough not to realise it.”


**VERITRIO**

"Are you insane?" asked Hermione. "What _is_ it with you, Malfoy? I know that you hated Harry, but not to the extent of punching him when he beat you at Quidditch!"

Draco stared hard at Hermione. Sparks glinted in his grey eyes, which never left her, not even when he was adjusting the collar of his shirt. His usually pale cheeks were flushed, but his blond hair seemed charmed to remain in place, even when both he and Hermione looked set to murder each other.

"You know!" he shouted back savagely. His lip was still swollen from the hex Ron threw at him, but he couldn't care less. He was already tired—Snape, after a scathingly polite conversation with Professor McGonagall, had duly deducted 10 points from Slytherin for Draco's behaviour at the Quidditch field earlier. He'd escaped detention and the other Slytherins had patted him on the back for punching Harry Potter, but the confrontation with Hermione seemed to be the zenith of hell. Or heaven. He didn't know whether he enjoyed screaming at a Gryffindor or risk getting caught talking to a Mudblood.

"You think you know everything, Granger," he twisted his lips into a spiteful sneer. "You do think that, don't you? Top student. Teacher's pet. Perfect score for OWLs. Record score, in fact. Outstanding for everything, if I'm not mistaken."

Hermione didn't reply. She only stared at him with intense loathing. Somehow, she wanted him to scream at her—she would've liked a fight. Her day was already bad enough—Lavender Brown had announced at breakfast that she had snagged 'the hottest boy' at school. Not like Hermione cared; she was too busy trying to balance her Arithmancy book against a jug of pumpkin shake. But the high-pitched giggles coming from Lavender and claims that the boy actually liked her back too were far to annoying to ignore.

"I _do_ know more than you," she shot back scathingly. It was night time, and a chilly breeze with the faint tinge of wintergreen filled the corridors. "At least, I get good grades because I study, not because Snape's my father's friend,' she finished.

Draco raised an eyebrow at Hermione; she saw to her annoyance that he still carried the proud look of a champion brat despite sporting a swollen lower lip. Silence pervaded. Then—

"The sound that you hear is that of my jaw crashing to the ground," said Draco patronizingly. "So that's why I'm top in Potions? Because Snape likes my father? Are you sure it isn't because he favours my _mother_?"

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. "That's disgusting," she snapped. "That's-"

"Possible," interrupted Draco with no trace of sarcasm in his voice. "After all, I inherited my good looks from _her_."

Hermione realised that her mouth was hanging open at Draco's outrageously bold statement, and snapped it with a shut.

"Good looks?" she could hardly keep herself from choking with laughter. "Of course, Malfoy…..if you consider corpse-pale skin and ferret-ish face as good looks. Otherwise, you're just a sixteen-year-old who sounds overly egotistical."

"I'm better than Scarface."

Again, Hermione stared. Finally she thought that she understood what all this was about.

"You're jealous of Harry, aren't you?" she asked slowly. "The attention he receives….that's what you craves. His talent as a Seeker…"

"I do not envy him," replied Draco coldly, but Hermione thought she saw the flame in his eye flicker. "I'm a Malfoy." He said it as though the argument was over.

"Yes you do," continued Hermione matter-of-factly. "I've seen the way you look at our table at the Great Hall. You pity yourself because Harry's friends like him as he is, not because of his money."

Her words made him paler. But he managed a fake smile.

"As the Weasel would say," he said, "bloody brilliant! The know-it-all has gotten it right again! Let's pop the champagne!"

"Drop it, Malfoy," she snapped, hating him more than ever. She wondered how Lavender could've considered him the 'hottest boy at school'. _She must've been possessed by the spirit of Pansy Parkinson_, thought Hermione.

"Well, you're wrong," said Draco insinuatingly with a gleam in his eye. "That's not why I hate Potter. Of course, he's an overrated would-be has-been, but that's not why I hate him so much."

"It's because he rejected your offer to be his friend.'

"Wrong again," smirked Draco smugly. "What's the matter with your intelligence today, Granger? Not at your top form? Then again, you've been stone blind since the day I first met you."

She had no idea what he was talking about. Finally—

"It's past your bedtime," she snapped angrily. "As a Prefect, I'm telling-"

"I'm a Prefect too, Granger. Or has your memory failed you?"

She shivered with rage. He could be so despicable that the urge to slap him was overwhelming. Her palm tingled with longing-

"So do it," he said coolly. "I know that's what you've been longing to do for a long time. That's what every girl wants. To have a piece of Draco Mal-"

She slapped him. It wasn't a half-hearted slap, but one that she'd been longing to give since Lavender told her that Draco winked at her. Since she found that Ginny's latest crush was on the blond Slytherin, despite what her brothers said. She hated him for being so cocky. She hated everything about him. She detested the way he stood there with a slender hand on his cheek, instead of hexing her to oblivion.

A slow, mocking smile spread on Draco's face. She couldn't meet his eyes.

"You really don't know, do you?" he asked finally. His voice sounded amused and disappointed at the same time.

She couldn't reply. Not when his eyes were boring into hers.

"I didn't know too at first," he said finally. "I tried to convince myself that it was something else. But it wasn't."

"What're you talking about?"

"You don't know," he repeated. His hand reached for his wand in his pocket. He took a deep breath, and pointed the wand at himself.

"_Veritrio__," _he hissed. Immediately, Hermione sensed that something in the spell had rendered Draco as helpless as someone who was under Veritaserum. His eyes no longer gleamed, but stared at her as though in pain. In fact, he was in pain. Dark Arts seldom contained spells that are pleasant.

"Ask," he rasped, as beads of sweat materialised on his temple. "This way, you cannot doubt my words."

Hermione had a million questions, starting with 'How could you have performed an advanced curse that actually worked?' to 'what do you see in Lavender?' but she knew that was not what he meant. Something in his words made her shiver—she knew that things would never be the same after this.

"Why do you hate Harry so much?" she asked carefully.

Draco held her gaze. His lips were tinged with blue, and he clutched his chest but he answered her nevertheless.

"Because everyone knows how you feel about him," he answered finally. "And he's the only one moronic enough not to realise it."

"I don't have a crush on Harry!" said Hermione indignantly. "What makes you think that I do?"

"It was in the papers during our Fourth Year. You and Potter-"

"That's Rita Skeeter's work!" shouted Hermione in disbelief. "And I believe that _you_ fed her a load of lies yourself!"

"I did. But only because I wanted to see if you would deny those rumours. Which you didn't."

"What if I _did_ deny 'those rumours'? Would it have made any difference?"

"Yes."

Hermione gave Draco a long look. _It's unfair to keep him under the Truth spell any longer, she thought. He looks weak enough already._ Still, there was so much that she wanted to know.

"_Finite incantatem_!" she said, and shut her eyes. Now, he was free to lie again. She didn't know which was more chilling—his lies or the truth.

"Yes, it would have made a difference," said Draco quietly. "A world of difference."

"How so?" She hoped against hope that his words would still be true.

Draco took a deep breath and closed the gap between them in one long stride. She didn't run away, not even when he could see that she was confused and nervous. He smiled inwardly. Just like a Gryffindor.

And he kissed her. At first, it was just a brush of his lips against hers, but when she didn't push him away, he started to kiss her deeply. He never knew that the girl whom he had never been civil with could fit so perfectly into his arms, that nothing seemed awkward. It was a sensation that he had never felt before, not even when Pansy kissed him. In the night, at the lonely corridors with only the moon as a witness, Draco shared the most beautiful kiss with the girl whom he had always wanted to love, but never knew if he was allowed to.

_But that night, he discovered that he was allowed to love her. Perhaps, he thought, if I were to wake up and find that this is all merely a dream….then please let her have the same dream too. It's too beautiful for me to keep it to myself. _

_And if there was one person whom he would give the sweetest thing to, it was Hermione Granger._


End file.
